Page 50 of Unhinged Little Angel

I couldn’t come up with a wet dream this perfect if I tried. My Angel with his legs spread and his hard cock drooling, his mouth open in invitation and his eyes drifting closed with a blissful look of relaxation. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if I gave him the wrong pills, or maybe that he’s still a little stoned from the ones he took last night. But I think he’s just starting to realize he’s safe with me. I’ll never be a white knight, but I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to hurt him. It doesn’t get safer than that, does it?

I tease the tip of my cock around his lips again, watching the even, calm breaths that move through his chest, and it crashes over me again how fucking close I came to losing him yesterday. I can’t. I won’t.

But my rage and anxiety aren’t what Dante needs right now. He needs to feel good. He needs me to help him let go. He needs his husband, not a Moretti this morning, and that’s what he’s going to get.

I fit my cock between his lips, my balls tightening instantly at the slippery heat that surrounds me, the long, stretched column of his throat bobbing with a swallow as I ease inside. I wrap one hand gently around his throat so I can feel the bulge of his Adam’s apple as my cock slips past the soft, fleshy place at the back of his tongue that constricts and flutters with every swallow and gag. A moan rumbles through me and my cock spasms.

“Can you breathe like this, Angel?” I check, my voice husky and strained. Dante’s nostrils flare and his chest expands. “Good,” I groan.

I reach for the bottle of lube I set on the bed, my cock shifting inside his throat, sending licks of electricity and heat through me. I click it open and pour a generous amount onto my fingers.

“Bend your knees,” I command, giving in to the undeniable urge to roll my hips and bury my cock another inch deeper before I force myself to hold still again.

He makes muffled sounds as he bends his knees and spreads his legs a little wider, each one vibrating down my shaft and settling in my balls. Leaning forward shifts my cock inside his throat again, and I brace one hand on the bed and slide my slicked fingers into the warm crease between his ass cheeks. I can’t see what I’m doing from this position, but the tight pucker of his hole isn’t hard to find.

“Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about feeling you stretched around my cock, Angel?” I growl, circling his rim with the pads of two fingers. Unlike most of the rest of his body, his hole isn’t waxed or shaved, there’s a soft little whorl of hair that clings to my fingers. Because unlike the rest of his body, it’s a part he doesn’t let the world see.

A possessive, primal sound rumbles in my throat. Dante’s cock twitches and weeps against his trembling belly and his hole flutters under my fingertips. His throat squeezes around my cock with a swallow and my fingers jerk, the tips slipping into histight entrance. We both groan, his mixed with a gag and mine full of the same guttural sense of ownership and need as the last sound I made.

I’m sure if his mouth wasn’t full, he would remind me that I don’t have to be careful with him, that he can take it rough, without all of the lube and slow, torturous fingering. But his mouthisfull, and even if it wasn’t, I’m in charge. I slide my fingers deeper, his inner muscles gripping around them before relaxing. I could live the rest of my life right here, with my cock throbbing in the sleeve of Dante’s throat and my fingers buried in his ass. I lean forward a little more to press an open-mouthed kiss to his smooth thigh as I work my fingers in the last inch.

“Have you ever been edged, Angel?” I murmur, kissing back and forth across the small expanse of his thigh I can reach in this position, pumping my fingers excruciatingly slowly in and out. “I think I might spend all morning playing with your hole until you’re so wild for me that you explode the second you have my cock inside you.”

I groan again at the thought of Dante sinking down onto my cock, his head lolling back and his cum spurting out in a fountain of sticky ropes before I’m even all the way inside of him. I fist the sheets to keep myself from fucking his mouth and chasing the pleasure I’m right on the edge of too.

He whimpers and the sound around my cock is almost enough to end things.

“No one’s ever taken so much time with your pleasure, have they?” I shove my fingers deeper, pressing my palm against his taut, hot sac just hard enough to drag another gagging whine from him. “That’s why you’re such a brat, isn’t it, sweetheart? You’re just weeding out all the weak men who don’t know how to give you what you need.”

I plunge my fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, watching the flush of his cock and the dribble of his precum. His thighsstart to tremble, and his cock stiffens a little more. Closer, closer,closer. Just when he starts to pant around my cock, I pull my fingers out so only the tips are tugging at his rim again.

Dante’s body sags and quakes, his chest heaving and his throat tightening around me with every pant and swallow. When he settles, I slide my fingers deep and start all over again, torturing both of us, riding the razor’s edge of pleasure until the air in the bedroom is humid from our sweat and heavy breathing, and our skin is slick.

Again and again, I finger him right up to the edge. And every time, he gets there a little quicker, until even with my fingertips resting on his rim, I can still feel the twitch and pulse of his hovering orgasm, feel the vibration of his needy whines in his throat. My cock throbs right along with him, twitching against his tongue, my balls painfully heavy and tight.

It’s almost impossible to make myself pull out. Just the drag of his tongue and lips as I ease out of his mouth is almost enough to set me off. His bottom lip tugs at the wrinkle of my foreskin and a shudder racks my body. Dante’s chin is soaked with his own saliva and his eyes are glassy and faraway when he slowly blinks them open.

“Please,” he croaks. “Please, Salvatore, I need your cock. Oh god, I need it so bad. I can’t… I need…please.” He whimpers and moans, his lips swollen and voice raw from having my cock buried in his throat for so long.

“It’s yours, Angel. Come here.” He scrambles clumsily to sit up and turn himself around.

I grab his hips and drag him right to the edge of the bed.

“You’re mine,” I growl, digging my fingers into his hips as he wraps his legs around me. “Say it, Angioletto. Tell me you’re mine.”

He lets out a little sob as my cock notches against his soft, wet, fluttering hole.

“Yours,” he gasps. “I’m yours, Salvatore.” He swallows hard. “Sir.”

That one word rocks my body. I slam my lips into his, tasting the salty sweetness of my precum on his lips and the sweat on his face as I thrust into him in one long, deep stroke. It’s just like I imagined,betterthan I imagined. His inner muscles give way, wrapping around me and dragging me inside, and before I’m even fully seated, he lets out a strangled cry and starts to pulse around me. Thick stripes of his cum paint my belly and soak into his shirt as I pull back and fill him again, growling against his lips as I fuck him through every tugging, squeezing, fucking perfect wave of pleasure before giving in to my own. Our mouths bump together in a not-quite kiss, sharing breath and trading gut-deep moans of pleasure as my thrusts stutter and the heat that’s been building in my gut finally explodes.

I rock into him, moaning with every spurt of cum I fill him with, marking him, claiming him, consummating this marriage that he still hasn’t figured out is real. He’ll understand eventually that I’m never letting him go.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck and pull his body against me carefully, matching the tremors that rock him as we both catch our breath and ride out the lingering aftershocks of our orgasms. Dante presses kisses along the side of my neck and across my jaw, with surprisingly little teeth.

If I tell him I love him, will he believe me? He’ll probably think I’m only saying it because of what happened yesterday, or that I’m too cum-drunk to mean it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and I chuckle, easing my softening dick out of the vice grip of his hole with a groan. “Oh god, I really have to pee.”

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